A Final Moment
by Leesie3973
Summary: *Spoilers* Sherlock has just died and John visits his grave to say his goodbye.
1. Chapter 1

A Final Moment

**Chapter 1**

John Watson stood in front of the headstone of the late Sherlock Holmes. After talking to his therapist, he knew he needed to say this. It wasn't easy but it was something he needed to do. The words he hadn't said when he'd had the chance…

"You... you told me once that you weren't a hero. Umm, there were times I didn't even think you were human. But let me tell you this, you were the best man, the most human... human being that I've ever known, and no-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, so there."

John stepped forward and put his hand on Sherlock's headstone "I was so alone, and I owe you so much. But, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be... dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this!"

The former soldier broke down. He missed Sherlock so much! He'd spent weeks trying to figure out why, why Sherlock had jumped, why he'd said he was a fake when John knew better… It didn't make any sense. But John knew Sherlock had a reason. There was always a reason. There was a time when Sherlock had mistaken him for an equal but John could never really keep up with Sherlock's incredible mind.

After a minute, John straightened himself up and with one last look at Sherlock's headstone; he walked back to where Mrs. Hudson was waiting for him. She'd been such a comfort to John even though she too was grieving the loss of Sherlock. They walked back to the waiting cab and rode in silence back to 221B Baker Street. In truth, neither of them had thought it would end this way. John had honestly though Sherlock was too stubborn to die. But even through Sherlock's conceited God complex, John could see that he was in fact human, perhaps the most human of them all.

After Sherlock's death, John had instructed Mrs. Hudson to leave all of Sherlock's things where they were. John had moved a few of his own things down to Sherlock's room and he'd been sleeping in Sherlock's bed. He missed Sherlock's snarky comments and senseless rambling. He missed the way Sherlock refused to do anything for himself, and how despite Sherlock's brilliance, he still couldn't be trusted to go off on his own as he was very likely to get killed, as evident by the very first case they'd worked on together. John had even taken to wearing Sherlock's housecoat around the flat. It was far too long but John didn't care. It smelled like Sherlock…

As they arrived back at the flat, John and Mrs. Hudson went to their respective comfort zones and didn't say a word. Mrs. Hudson made tea and John curled up in Sherlock's favorite chair with Sherlock's housecoat. While staring at Sherlock's mess in the kitchen, John registered a paper that had fallen to the floor. He walked over to retrieve it and put it back in its place. Picking it up, he examined it and found it contained only five words: "I believe in John Watson". It took everything John had not to cry. And that wasn't enough. Tears splashed on the note as John's shaking hands set it on Sherlock's laptop. John felt like his chest had been ripped in two. He crawled into Sherlock's bed and cried himself to sleep thinking about his last conversation with Sherlock.

~o~o~o~

Sherlock stood silently in the shadows and listened as John spoke his goodbye. Sherlock wished he could walk over there and hug him, tell him that things were okay, give him the miracle he was praying for, but Sherlock knew it had to be this way. John would be okay eventually. And he'd be much better off without Sherlock always putting him in danger.

"I wish I could be your hero, John" Sherlock whispered under his breath. John wasn't the only one suffering. Sherlock couldn't stand being away from John. John was his only friend, the only person who'd put up with him, besides Mycroft, and the only person Sherlock had ever truly been close to. Despite everything, John still believed in him. Sherlock wished he had a chance to tell John the same….

As John walked away with Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock turned and walked towards the waiting car behind him. He slid in next to Molly without a word. Molly quietly handed him a manila envelope and Sherlock registered the location of his bag before completely blocking her out. As much as Molly cared about him, Sherlock wouldn't let her get attached. He shouldn't have let John get attached. People got hurt when they were around Sherlock. John had nearly been killed on more than one occasion. Sherlock hated himself for that.

When Sherlock had gone back to 221B Baker Street, the flat he shared with John and Mrs. Hudson, during his own funeral no less, he'd made sure to grab one of his old scarves. He didn't touch anything important but he did take his skull and the song he'd been composing for John. He could always get a new violin. He didn't want to disturb things. John wouldn't notice the difference but Sherlock was still cautious. John wasn't stupid. And he'd been developing his observation skills over the last year or so. However, despite the fact that he knew he shouldn't tamper, Sherlock couldn't help but write a note to John. He needed to. He grabbed a scrap of paper from his messy kitchen lab and scrawled five words across the page: _I believe in John Watson_. He left it in an innocuous place on the table so that it would look like part of the mess. At some point, Sherlock knew John would clean this up. John didn't like a mess.

Molly was taking Sherlock to the train station near Baker Street. It was the closest to John that Sherlock would ever be again. Sherlock opened the manila envelope and pulled out the papers within. There was a one way train ticket to Paris, a passport with the name Michel Yanni, a handful of necessary legal papers, a small fortune in French currency, and a new cell phone with a list of contacts in Paris. It was a whole new identity. Sherlock thought about the name he had chosen. Michel being French for Michael meaning "Who is like God" Yanni was Greek for John. It was the only way Sherlock could keep John at the forefront of his mind. John was Sherlock's reason for every decision leading up to this. John was his everything, and he'd changed his own name to fit that idea.

Finally, after a long, awkward, stretch of silence, Molly and Sherlock reached the train station. Molly walked with Sherlock into the station carrying the suitcase of clothes and other items she'd purchased for him. Sherlock turned around, taking the case from Molly, then setting it down and bringing her into a tight hug.

"Thank you Molly. Thank you for helping, for caring, for being human. You aren't always the brightest but your heart is in the right place. Just stay away from the sociopaths, okay?" He said with a gentle smile. Molly nodded, tears running down her face.

"Don't cry! I'm not good with crying things!" said Sherlock with obvious distress. He wasn't sure if he should hug her again or walk away or… Goodness! Why do normal people have to feel things?

Molly laughed a little and said "Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes. If you ever come back to London, you know there will be people here to take care of you."

Sherlock nodded and then, picking up his suitcase, he turned and boarded the train leaving Molly to stand and watch as it left the station, watching until it faded into the distance and then disappeared with the most brilliant man the world had ever seen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Sherlock stood on the edge of oblivion, looking down at the small people, working up the courage to be a hero for John, for Mrs. Hudson, even for Lestrade. He saw John getting out of a cab across the road. Sherlock hit 1 on his phone and then "Call". _

"_Turn around and walk back the way you came," said Sherlock when John picked up.  
>John Charged forward and said, "No, I'm coming in."<em>

"_Just do as I ask! Please," plead Sherlock. The tone of his voice caught John's attention. He stopped, turned around and walked back toward where he'd gotten out of the cab._

"_Where?" he asked._

"_Stop there," said Sherlock._

"_Sherlock," John said while looking around. He was frightened. Sherlock could hear it in his voice._

"_Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop," said Sherlock. John spun around and looked up at the roof of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. _

"_Oh god," said John. John hoped he was wrong about Sherlock's intentions._

"_I— I— I can't come down so we'll just have to do it like this," said Sherlock. Now he was starting to sound scared. He needed to be strong for John…_

"_What's going on?" asked John carefully._

"_An apology. It's all true," lied Sherlock. This was for John's protection. A lie wouldn't hurt him too much as long as Sherlock was careful. _

"_What?" Now John was confused. Sherlock couldn't be serious._

"_Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty." Sherlock was lying through his teeth. Sherlock looked back at Moriarty's dead body lying on the roof._

"_Why are you saying this?" asked John. After everything that John had been through with Sherlock, he didn't want to think that Sherlock had done it all as a joke. It didn't make sense._

"_I'm a fake," gasped Sherlock. He needed to affirm Moriarty's lies in John's mind. He needed John to believe he'd been played._

"_Sherlock—"John started but Sherlock cut him off._

"_The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty for my own purposes." Sherlock was near tears. Lying to John was agony. _

_It wasn't just John that needed to doubt. It was everyone. This was what Moriarty had been playing towards all along. He helped build Sherlock up until he couldn't get any higher, only to make him fall so hard he'd never get back up._

"_Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up." John was trying to keep doubt from setting in. He tried to reaffirm his faith in Sherlock. He was almost angry that Sherlock would try to lie to him. "The first time we met—the first time we met—you knew all about my sister, right?"_

"_Nobody could be that clever," said Sherlock. There was pain in his voice. He knew John believed in him more than anyone else. It hurt so much to lie to him._

"_You could," said John. He spoke those words with conviction. Sherlock gave a short laugh. John had always believed in Sherlock. There was no doubt there and Sherlock knew he had to dig the cut deeper. He had to make this hurt or John would never be able to move on._

"_I researched you. Before we met," said Sherlock. His voice was getting stronger with every lie. This was for John's protection. "I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's just a trick. A magic trick." In those words, Sherlock said what he couldn't say. John wouldn't be able to hear the real message. That killed Sherlock the most. Sherlock always tried to impress John because he… Don't think it, he told himself._

_Shaking his head, John said "No. Stop it now…" He started to walk forward but Sherlock stopped him._

"_You stay exactly where you are! Don't move" said Sherlock._

_Lifting his hand, John said, "Alright..." as he stepped back in place._

_Sherlock reached out his hand, as if to touch John knowing that he couldn't, not now or ever again._

"_Keep your eyes fixed on me," instructed Sherlock. "Please, will you do this for me?" he begged._

"_Do what?" asked John. He needed to keep Sherlock talking._

"_This phone call, it's... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note?" asked Sherlock. This was his goodbye to John. People only left a suicide note if they thought someone would care enough to read it. Sherlock was leaving this note for John. Sherlock could feel the hot tears running down his face._

"_Leave a note when?" asked John, although he already knew the answer. He didn't want to hear this, didn't want to believe that Sherlock would do this to him._

"_Goodbye, John," said Sherlock. This was it. He needed to do this. Never mind if John understood why. Sherlock had said all he could. It was either this, or Sherlock would lose everyone he loved. He would lose John. Life wasn't worth living anymore if John wasn't in it._

"_No. Don't—"John never finished the statement. Sherlock tossed the phone behind him onto the roof. _

"_SHERLOCK!" yelled John. Sherlock could see him rush forward. With a deep breath, Sherlock let go of everything._

_He pitched forward, tumbling off the edge of the roof. _

_Sherlock closed his eyes as he fell. The ground disappeared and suddenly… he was flying. He could hear John, he could see him rushing forward but he couldn't touch him; he couldn't stop him or protect him._

~o~o~o~

Sherlock jolted upright as he awoke with a strangled scream in his throat. His bed and clothes were soaked with sweat. The sheets were tangled around his legs. Sherlock untangled himself and looked out the window of his small flat at all of Paris stretched before him. There was a full moon, and judging by its placement, Sherlock guessed it to be about 2:30 in the morning. He laid back down putting his arm over his eyes.

He hated how even in his dreams, he could see and feel every emotion, not just on his side, but on John's as well. There was so much pain in that last moment. Sherlock wanted to tell John everything, tell him how great of friend he was, look him in the eyes and promise him that everything would be fine… Instead, he had lied, faked his own death, ruined his own name, broken his best friend, and fled to another country never to be heard from again. The great Sherlock Holmes was perhaps the worst friend in the history of the world. Despite his noble intentions, John wouldn't forgive him if he knew the truth.

**AN: Please Review!**


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